


I'm (not) okay

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4881106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of Supernaturalimagine: Imagine Castiel comforting you after Sam and Dean’s death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm (not) okay

The brothers had tried to fight the Darkness alone and failed. They had deceived you, tricked you into being locked inside the Impala with no way to get out. Castiel came across you, handcuffed and bleeding from your wrists from all your violent struggling, attached to the door handle of the inside the Impala. By the time Castiel found you it was too late. The Darkness had infected Sam and Dean. They turned into savages, growing hungrier to tear each other apart as they turned the brown grass crimson. It ate away at everything the boys stood for. The love they felt for each other, past promises to stand tall with each other at the end, a family.

 

Possibly the worst part for you was watching, unable to help, as their eyes filled with fear. Of themselves, of the violent urges compelling them. It was so much stronger than the Mark. Neither of them stood a chance. In what felt like centuries but was only minutes, you saw as what made them them evaporate. Dean was the first to strike. His mind still weak from combating the Mark crumbled as the Darkness knocked on his door. Sam, even though it was only for a few second before the dark took over, saw his brother face, unfeeling, coming straight for him.

 

Dean tried to jam his angel blade into Sam’s chest. Sam’s constant agility training pays off as he side steps Dean, but still receives a substantial cut to his chest. His blue plaid shirt sticks to the edges of the new wound, turning navy everywhere the blood touches. In the middle of regaining his strength Sam loses his battle. His shock allowed the Darkness an entrance, even if it was the size of a mouse hole. Their bodies are stiff, cocked like a gun. Using his fists Sam blindsides Dean, slamming his knuckles into his cheek. The instantly recognizable sound of bone cracking mixes in with the serene sound of trees rustling. Dean, completely oblivious to the pain that must be coursing through his face, stabs Sam in the side. Another stream of blood takes it path down Sam’s shirt and all the way into his shoes.

 

Sam disarms Dean and plunges the angel blade into Dean’s shoulder. He drags the blade from Dean’s left shoulder down to the middle of his abdomen. The cut is deep enough to expose parts of Dean’s muscles underneath. The battle rages on with the blade tossed aside during the scuffle. You can no longer watch, sickened, terrified, and helpless. There is no way for you to block out the sounds. Ripping clothing, the clashing of bone striking against bone, the monstrous roars that occasionally come for the boys. Desperate to do something, anything, you thrash against the handcuff causing the metal to scrap away at the delicate skin around your wrist.

 

It seems like ages before silence overtakes the grove again. In actuality it was ten minutes tops but it is longer than anyone should be helplessly listening to their friends, family really, beating each other to death. Exhausted, emotionally and physically, you lose track of time, the burning in your wrists serving as an annoying reminder you’re still trapped in Baby. All you can do is beg for someone, anyone, to hear your weakening pleas for help.

 

“Y/N? What happened? Are you alright?” Castiel, seeing your predicament, doesn’t waste time looking for the keys to the Impala. He forces the slightly opened window down enough to break the handcuffs into tiny shards of metal. You couldn’t find your voice, it was hiding much like how you wanted to hide.

 

You look over Castiel’s shoulder as he carries you out of the Impala and start squirming in his arms. Incapable, or unwilling, to restrain you Castiel releases you and you went racing for the two huddled masses in the middle of the grove. Their faces were filled with scrapes, bruises, and starting to swell. You look down and see the holes they’d ripped into each other, limbs barely hanging on. At first you want to hug, hold them tight and pretend that they’re going to be alright. That a little angel magic will make it all better. But then all you do is pound away at their still chests.

 

“Why do you guys have to always play the heroes?!” You sob, furious and annoyed, over Dean and Sam’s lifeless bodies. “Why?! Now look at what’s happened to you!”

 

“Y/N…” Castiel stops mid-sentence at the ferocious glare you throw his way.

 

“You...if this is your idea of protecting me then you’ve done a shit job! Who do I have now?!” You give a few migger slaps and curl up between their bodies. “Who do I have now? I need you guys. I don’t know know what to do. Please, just come back! You always do!”

 

Sobs continue to wreck your body, gasping for breath. Castiel silently lifts you up trying his best to calm you, rubbing the sides of your thighs and arms. The motion combined with the scent of warm milk and honey coming off of Castiel lulls your exhausted body into restless sleep. With you comfortably in your bed, wrapped in bundles of sheets, Castiel goes back to the grove. Degected all he can do is hang his head, close their eyes, and take them to a safe hiding place. Somewhere the Darkness won’t sniff them out. Eventually a time will come when the Winchesters need to be brought back. And Castiel intends to make sure he preserves them for as long as it takes. Castiel fishes out the Impala’s keys from Dean’s pockets alongside a small envelope that was tucked away. Instantly Castiel can sense that this envelope, whatever it may contain for you, is important. Pondering the possibilities of what may be inside Castiel drives the Impala into the bunker’s garage.

 

For months you’ve barely moved out of your bed or around the bunker. You’ve shut Sam and Dean’s bedroom, refusing to wake anywhere near them or touch anything. Castiel has been having to split his time between forming a coalition of angels, humans, and some demons to battle the Darkness that has continuously grown, enveloping and infesting thousands, and making sure he spends some time with you. No matter how many times you tell him you’re fine, that everything is fine, Castiel refuses to take your terrible attempts at easing his concern. He knows you’re not fine, you know you’re not fine, and it shows. The dark circles under your eyes have only deepened in all your refusal to sleep. You want to spend as little time asleep as possible. Their faces, the sounds, that metallic smell that permeated the air. All of it comes rushing back like a tsunami of emotions you can’t, don’t want to deal with right now.

 

“Y/N, I know you want nothing to do with our army and I can understand. But...I think you need to read this, at least.” Castiel never just shows up without knocking or warning so you know it’s important but still refuse to let him see your face. There is no way Castiel would go back to being the commander of his army while you waste away in your room. He can only hope that whatever is inside brings the Y/N he has grown so fond of being around. Castiel leaves the small envelope he’d taken out of Dean’s pocket on the edge of your bed and disappears.

 

Positive that Castiel has left you slither over to the letter. The cover remains enveloped around you like a cocoon. On the outside is Dean’s handwriting. It’s more slanted and difficult to read, apparently he’d rushed through finishing the letter and writing your name on the outside. You open the envelope and start reading Dean’s final letter.

 

Y/N,

I know you’re going to be mad at me when this is all said and done, but I need you to know that there was nothing you could have done. Hell, Sam and I wouldn’t have let you. This was a mess we needed to fix ourselves. We’re the one’s that screwed everything up and it’s not fair to have you be the maid. This is probably the dumbest thing we’ve ever done, and we’ve done some dumb shit, but it needs to be done. If we don’t make it, Baby’s yours. Sam wants you to have his laptop. Actually, everything is yours. There is no one else that deserves it as much as you. You’ve been our rock, our sister, whenever we needed it. If we make it, you’ll never read this letter but, we’re going to make sure that you understand how much you mean to us. We’ll be better. One last thing, you’re strong, you’re smart, you’re capable. Don’t forget that and don’t let anyone, especially yourself, take that away. Enough of this touchy feely stuff. We got a second apocalypse to stop!  

-D.W.

 

Beads of your tears land on the crinkled parchment creating new tears stains. You giggle in utter disbelief. Here you’ve been, beating yourself up for months about something that was going to happen whether you were there or not. The conflict that had been brewing in your chest for these past months reaches its’ boiling point. You get that by trying to pretend they aren’t gone, avoiding their rooms, the memories you’ve shared, isn’t going to make things easier but confronting those triggers is easier said than done.

 

Weeks pass in rapid succession as you build yourself back up to average hunting standard. You even changed your last name, Y/N Winchester. The gun range is now your playground, and your marksmanship has improved alongside your confidence holding a gun. As for the area around the bunker has become you track, a shallow rut has been formed on your daily path. You’re still not at your best, you still can’t walk into the boys’ rooms without crumbling but you don’t want to keep wasting time. You make the call you’ve been agonizingly preparing for, not entirely sure if he’ll answer.

 

“Cas! I think it's’ time that we talked!” You shout bounces of the bunker making you feel incredibly silly. Just when you’re ready to give up waiting for Castiel the distinctive show of flapping wings breaks through the air.

 

“Y/N, you’re looking much better. I apologize that I haven’t been coming around as much. Things are speeding up much faster than we’d like. Plus, from our last meeting I got the feeling that you needed some alone time.” You’d barely noticed during your constant training and reviewing that Castiel never popped in. A part of you feels ridiculously selfish for only focusing on yourself, not realizing that Castiel was going through struggles as the hesitant leader of another army. There is also the fact that Sam and Dean were as much family for Castiel as they were for you. The only difference, he continued moving forward.

 

Motivated to return the unconditional support from Cas you square off your shoulders and hold his tired gaze. “I want in.”

 

“Y/N, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Their-what happened hit you hard and I’m not positive that now is the right moment to jump back in, head first.” Castiel goes to continue protesting your involvement but you never drop away his gaze. He goes silent in the wake of your silent, commanding stare, letting you give your reasons.

 

“I need to do this, Cas. Joining you, doing whatever it takes, is the only way that I can continue. This life is all I have left of them. Also, I think if Dean saw Baby sitting in the bunker garage like a piece of scrap metal, he’d kill me.” A scornful chuckle leaves both you and Castiel at the image of Dean furious over Baby being denied her purpose. Sam would probably be off in the corner, smiling, watching his brother blow a gasket.  

 

“Then I believe these belong to you.” Castiel hands over the keys to the Impala that you’d searched all over the house for. He’d been keeping them safe, waiting for the time that you would come back, fighting.

 

Right as Castiel turns to leave you wrap your arms around his waist. “Thank you, Castiel. For everything.” His rigid body softens and he only nods his head, smiling.

 

“Any time.”

 

All that’s left of Castiel’s visit is the shimmering keys and the faint smell of warm milk and honey.

  
  
Today’s the first day you leave the safety of bunker and the surrounding area. Today is your first step to standing up against the Darkness alongside Castiel, Crowley, and the thousands of willing soldiers waiting for their orders. You slip into your hunter’s gear. The oversized plaid shirt and canvas work boots make you look like a child playing dress up in their parent’s clothes. Underneath the shirt your skin tingles as you sway and shift. Your new tattoo in memory of the boys, a scale with a pair of boxing gloves and books on either scale evenly balanced, stings as the cotton rubs against it.  The Impala’s keys weigh a ton in your pocket, burning a hole in your pocket with its’ expectant heat. Your face is stern and unflinching. You are going to get rid of the Darkness even if it destroys you. Pay back for their sake. You never imagined that you would have to carry on the Winchester lineage, even if you aren’t related by blood, you’re prepared to keep the family business alive till your last breath. Saving people, hunting things. 


End file.
